


Misstep

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: 30 Days of Whump-Cherik Edition [8]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 30 Day Whump Prompt Challenge, Alcohol, Boys In Love, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Don't copy to another site, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Protective Erik Lehnsherr, X-Men: First Class (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 19:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19857073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Charles copes in the aftermath of losing Darwin and Erik does what little he can.Day 8: Delirium





	Misstep

**Author's Note:**

> As always the prompt list can be found with the link in story one :)
> 
> Day 8: Delirium

Erik wandered the halls of the CIA building, unable to sit still after the revelations about Darwin’s death and Angel’s betrayal. It was strange, the urge that rose up inside him in the aftermath. He found himself constantly passing the doors of the children and pausing just outside, listening for sounds of distress. They had all been moved to a new corridor, temporarily, and Erik wasn’t stupid. He knew it was more for the comfort of the remaining agents then for their own safety, but at least they were all close together now.

Charles had spoken to them all individually in the time between their arrival and the call for lights out. He’d been amazing, as usual, despite Erik being intimately aware of just how shaken Charles was, how severely the thought of losing Raven, of losing any of them had weighed on him. At first Erik couldn’t understand the sense of responsibility for these people who had chosen to help them of their own free will, but seeing the tears and paleness and shaking, it had become abundantly clear. He and Charles were responsible for looking out for them and it was obvious they saw them that way too.

Erik shook his head, walking past familiar doors and seeing no lights from under the cracks and hearing no distressing noises, not that he knew what he’d do if he had. Probably he’d ask Charles to come speak to them. Really, though, Erik was starting to think everything would be alright, Charles claimed to know of a safe place they could train, and he trusted him with his life, tomorrow everything would be better.

Erik used to think those sentiments were silly, but it was difficult not believe them when they came from Charles’s mouth.

Speaking of.

Erik paused outside Charles’s door, spotting the light shining through the cracks. These past few weeks they had shared a bed so often that not feeling his presence next to him at night had begun to feel strange. Tonight, though, Erik wasn’t sure if Charles wanted company. It was odd not knowing, because the man was usually an open book.

Erik had just decided to head back to his own room when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like unintelligible mumbling and the toppling of some heavy object. In theory, that could easily be Charles moving around, being clumsy and accidentally hitting something, but Erik’s stomach twisted, and his hand was already on the doorknob.

The door swung open and Erik slipped inside, blinking in the sudden harsh lighting. He froze almost instantly at the sight before him. Charles was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the coffee table, currently bent over trying and failing to pick up the chess pieces that had fallen off. That wasn’t what caught Erik’s attention, however, no, it was the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table.

The image was wrong for two reasons. The first being that it was whiskey and Charles didn’t drink whisky. They had their fair share of bar food after a long day of traveling and never once had Charles drank anything with whiskey in it. The second, more incomprehensible thing, was that the bottle was three quarters empty and Erik didn’t need telepathy or vision to know it was freshly opened tonight.

Charles sat up at the sound of the door and immediately put a hand to his head, groaning. He dropped the few pieces he’d managed to snag of the chess set on the table and glared at Erik with an expression he’d never seen before, “what are you doing here?”

Erik just stared at him, tried not to be impressed that his words weren’t even slurred. Charles was squinting at him like he really couldn’t understand why Erik was standing in his room and it took effort to pretend that didn’t hurt.

Instead of answering, Erik strode over to the table, feeling those usually bright blue eyes on him the entire time. Without a word, he picked up the bottle, stalked over to the little bathroom suit and drained what was left down the sink. Anger wasn’t precisely the right emotion to explain how he felt in that moment. No, it was more complicated then that and Erik hated complicated. Charles was supposed to be the one in control, just like him, they were supposed to do this together and instead, he was sitting here getting drunk.

He left the bathroom to find a frowning Charles, “that was very impolite my friend. That was good whisky.”

Erik didn’t reply, afraid the words would come out shouting. He went over to the bed and turned down the covers before walking back over to Charles and gripping his forearm and began dragging him toward the bed.

“You’re angry,” Charles muttered. “You know I can sober up instantly if there is an emergency,” he sounded almost like he was moping.

Erik clenched his teeth. Forced him into the bed, thankful Charles at least didn’t have his shoes on and ignored wide mournful eyes. He made his way back to the bathroom, snagging the empty glass on the table and focused on filling it with water.

There was plenty he wanted to say. He wanted to berate Charles for being so stupid as to drink tonight of all nights. Wanted Charles to understand that he was better than this. That the least he could do was not abandon Erik like this. The only thing stopping him was the embarrassment of those admissions out loud.

When Erik finally stepped back out into the room, he found Charles buried in the covers, eyes closed and seemingly already dead to the world. He knew better, however, and quietly flicked off the lights and put the water on the bedside table. Erik had every intention of staying, looking to claim one of the chairs in the corner, when a hand shot out to grab his forearm. In the dimness of the dark room, it was impossible to see his eyes.

He didn’t need to.

“Stay. They…all of them, they feel so sad. Not you.”

Erik didn’t need coherent sentences to understand. His heart broke all on its own. It was still frustrating, but it was difficult to blame Charles for relying on alcohol when the minds around him must be soured in fear and grief. Erik wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.

Erik slipped into the bed and beneath the covers. Erik tugged Charles close and couldn’t help the soft smile that slid over his lips as he nuzzled into his chest. It would be alright; he could be there for the both of them from time to time.


End file.
